


The One Where The Almighty Has Had Enough

by PrincessDianaArtemis



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam Young calls God Grandma, Crowley and Aziraphale are Adam Young's Godfathers, Fallen Angels, Gabriel is a Prick, God Ships It, Heaven and Hell Hate Them, Hunter angel, Hunter demon, I take a different approach on Crowley's falling, M/M, and made him a character, i brought up Asmodeus, they're soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-29 08:51:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessDianaArtemis/pseuds/PrincessDianaArtemis
Summary: When Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves confronted by Heaven and Hell on the subject of their torrid affair, they might need a little divine intervention.After all, God wouldn't want Her Ineffable Plan to go astray because of some overzealous busybodies, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prelude: I was working on something else when I thought: Well, if Sandalphon was responsible for Sodom and Gomorrah, what if he was responsible for the Nephilim massacre, too? And what if his counterpart for ‘punisher of illicit love’, was Asmodeus, demon of Lust (those posts about Aziraphale asking Crowley if that’s what he changed his name to)…this was born.  
> I also made my own angel mythology (see end for notes on that).

It was a crisp, early autumn morning when something in London shifted. There was a different feeling in the air, a mixture of ozone and sulfur that felt out of place in the foggy London morning, especially for the occult and ethereal being that realized their vacation was coming to an close.

The phone at the bookshop rung once before Aziraphale, who had been standing expectantly at its side, picked it up.

“I think it’s best you get here, my dear. I feel it’d be best to meet here than on the streets of London.”

Crowley, who hadn’t even been able to slip out an ‘angel’, answered, “Hmm, alright. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“No rush,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t think they expect to do anything with us until we are together.”

With the promise of more hellfire and holy water, Aziraphale began to influence his visitors to remember appointments they’d previously forgotten (and then realize, halfway there, that the appointment was _tomorrow_ ) and closed the shop.

He didn’t bother locking the door. Lock or no lock, Crowley—or the others—would find a way inside. There was time, he expected, so he made himself some cocoa as he waited.

The sound of the Bentley coming to rest along the street eased the slight tension in the angel’s shoulders and he took a sip of the cooling cocoa. When the door opened, he raised a hand from behind his pile of books.

“In here, love.”

Crowley would’ve blushed if he had the time for anything other than fret.

“No sign of them yet?” he asked and settled across from Aziraphale.

“Not yet, but I don’t think they’ll be long.”

It had been about a month since Adam had contacted them about the angel and demon duo that were hunting down evidence of the, as he had heard it, indecency causing Heaven and Hell so much grief. Since then, they had felt the light push and pull of one side or the other. The wave of righteousness and tail end of the tan overcoat Sandalphon took to wearing on Earth or the outpour of lust that ended with the outing of politicians and other important members of the community which Crowley knew reeked of Asmodeus’ influence. But, they figured the honeymoon was over and it was time to face their demons—well, demon and angel as it were.

They weren’t disappointed when a few minutes later, the crackle of otherworldly magic appeared at the door. They prepared themselves, standing side-by-side as they always have. The door opened with a light jingle of the bell at its threshold, but it wasn’t angel nor demon, but a boy with blond curls that smiled when he saw the confused duo.

“You didn’t think I’d let you face them alone, right?” he asked with the overconfidence of any eleven-year old as he strode over to them and stopped between them.

Crowley reacted first, hands on his hips, “What are you doing here?”

“This really is no place for you, dear boy.”

Adam just raised a challenging eyebrow, “Mum and Dad suddenly had a desire to come to London for a day trip. They’re having a break at the café across the street so I asked if I could come over to the bookshop. I think—I think it’ll help if I’m here. After all, your gangs still want their fight and they still think they can’t have it without me. They won’t hurt you as long as I’m here.”

The men-shaped being looked between each other, Crowley gaze a little more firm than Aziraphale who gave him a wide-eyed, puppy-dog look until the demon sighed, “Ah, alright. But both of you buckle up, we’re in for a whole lot of ugly.”

“Oh, it’s okay—nothing is uglier than Greasy Johnson and I look at _him_ all the time.”

Crowley felt the quirk of a smile before another wave of magic, this time older and angrier, pushed through the door. The bell wasn’t a jingle but more of a terrified rattle as four bodies walked through the door and stood in a semi-circle at the center of the rotunda—demons to the left, angels to the right. Aziraphale and Crowley stood likewise with Adam in the middle, all three matching in posture, shoulders back, and head high as they faced their superiors and the two hunters. Gabriel, with his condescending smile stepped forward, hands clasped before him.

“Wonderful, you’re both here,” he said, gaze sliding down to the boy. “Wish _you_ weren’t—don’t want you to witness what we’re about to do to your friends.”

“Godfathers,” Adam said. “They’re my godfathers.”

There was a light preen from each of the beings at his side as Adam took a step back and closer to their warmth behind him.

Gabriel’s smile almost slipped before turning to Beezlebub and sharing a disgusted look.

“Right, well, I’m sure the two of you know why we’re here,” Gabriel said and gestured to Sandalphon. “My friend here has been researching about the two you and your torrid affair. He’s found some pretty—well—”

“Damning evidence,” Beelzebub said, a wicked curve of zir lips. “And Asmodeus is here to verify just how damning it is. We should begin immediately, I am anxiously awaiting thizzz outcome.”

Sandalphon stepped forward and glared at the angel-demon duo in front of him, “I haven’t seen such audacity since the incident with the Nephilim. Their relationship, the _arrangement_ as they call it, is an illicit and gross misuse of their power and immortal time. I would say that the demon has corrupted a holy being—but Aziraphale was barely holy to begin with.”

Crowley took a step forward, the fist he’d made at his side sparking with fire and he radiated that heat of demonic rage. Adam glanced back with a raised eyebrow, but it was Aziraphale that reached over and brushed his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the floor and towards him.

“It’s not worth it,” he said.

“ _You_ are worth it,” Crowley said. “I’m damned enough as it.”

Aziraphale shook his head, “I won’t let you, so you can stop thinking about it.”

The sparks disappeared and the hand that had been hovering at Crowley’s shoulder dropped to give a light squeeze to the uncurled fingers and they remained that way, hand-in-hand. Gabriel gave a dramatic gasp, hand flying to clutch at his lapel.

“See,” Sandalphon said. “They’re brazen in their affections; even right in front of us they’re not even ashamed of it. It’s abominable.”

“My, Aziraphale, how you’ve broken,” Gabriel said. “But, you still have another chance. We can still save you from the Snake’s influence. Now, Beelzebub does your—hunter want to put in anything or are we saving them for the punishment?”

Beelzebub turned to the demon who had been quiet and gestured for them to start talking. They did.

“I didn’t know that angels _inspired_ lust,” they said, the voice slippery and sounding different to everyone in the room. “But this angel has been very, well, naughty even if he himself hasn’t done anything of the sort. The demon, too, but it is his job. What’s so strange about him is that he’s had less than demonic thoughts— _love_ of all things.”

Crowley tensed and felt as the Prince of Hell’s eyes raised to look at him, but the hand that held his gave it another squeeze and the tension drained. In front of them, Adam scoffed.

“Since when is Love a bad thing?”

He was ignored as Gabriel laughed, “Well, it seems the two of you have a few little _things_ to atone to—well, atone in whatever way Hell makes that happen. So, we’ll start with our little angel, why don’t we? Aziraphale, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Aziraphale glanced over to Crowley at his side, then down at Adam before puffing up and addressing the Archangel, “It’s as Adam said, since when is Love a bad thing? We’re meant to be beings of love and we should express it towards everyone. Yes, my love for Crowley is different, but we have known each other for a ridiculous amount of time so of course it would be different.” He squeezed the hand in his, “So, do whatever you must, but I see nothing wrong with my actions.”

Sandalphon made a disgusted sound and leaned over to Gabriel, whispering something in his ear. Gabriel nodded and turned to the demon at his side who turned to her subordinate.

“What about _you_ , Crowley? What do you have to say?”

Crowley hissed, long and extra-snaky, “What Aziraphale ssssaid.”

“Very well,” Gabriel said and turned to the two hunters. “Sandalphon…Asmodeus, you know your orders.”

“Adam,” Aziraphale said, a breath of a voice. “You need to get out of here.”

He frowned and turned an incredulous expression on the angel, “I’m not leaving you alone. Besides, everything will sort itself out—you’ll see.”

Almost as if he had summoned it, and it wasn’t too far beyond the realm of belief that he had, a roll of thunder ripped through the sky and shook the bookshop. Then there was a bright light in the area between the court of eternals and those accused and when it disappeared, there was a woman standing there.

Saying that there was a woman standing there was actually inaccurate. Saying it that way was like saying that a nuclear explosion had caused a _bit_ of a mess. What is more accurate is saying that there was a _corporation_ of a woman, if this woman were housing inside her a nuclear plant of ethereal Love, Peace, and Light. She was smallish, smaller than the men-shaped beings in the room, but not as small as Beelzebub and Adam. Her smile was more of a smirk as her eyes flickered from one side of stunned eternals to the other.

“Right,” She said. “That’s quite enough of this. I think this has gone on too long. It’s time I get involved."

Gabriel, reacted first, getting to a knee and dragging Sandalphon down with him, “It’s—it’s an _honor_ , Your Holiness.”

“Quite. Now, get up, you’re making a fool of yourself Gabriel, dear. Beezy, Asmo, lovely to see you two. And you two,” she said and turned her attention to the pair of Earthbound beings, “you sure have brought me quite a bit of memos.”

Adam frowned as he studied Her, then his face lit up with understanding, “Hey, Grandma.”

She smiled, “Lovely to meet you, Adam, dear.”

“I know you’re in the middle of something, right now.” he said, “But can I ask a quick question?”

“Of course,” She said, “Curiosity is quite a human thing—and we are meant to encourage it. What is your question, dear?”

“Am I going to be smote?” he asked. “Smite? ‘Cuz Anathema was talking to me about the Bible and how half-angel kids were all killed because they weren’t allowed and then she said how Lucifer—that’s my not-dad, right—that he was an angel, which would make me half-angel so I’d be a Nephilim, right? So—is that guy going to smite me?”

Adam waved his hand towards Sandalphon who blanched, even more when She started to laugh. “No, dear, you’re in a class all on your own. No one will smite you. No one’s being _smote_ at all,” and She turned to the Archangel and Prince of Hell, “You two have been rather persistent, haven’t you.”

Gabriel cleared his throat, “He’s tainted, your Holiness, we can’t just let that slide. He’s been fraternizing with a demon, he _stopped_ the Great Plan in its tracks. He’s—he’s immune to hellfire, there was something we had to do.”

The Almighty turned Her cryptic smirk on him, “Could it not be argued that you have fraternized with demons. You and Beezy have been communicating about this little hunt of yours. Sandalphon’s been tracking with Asmodeus, yet you call Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship _illicit_.”

“It izzzz,” Beelzebub said, voice rather quiet. “There are feelings involved.”

She turned Her attention on the demon, who made zirself smaller, then straightened the grey blazer she wore, “Alright then. It’s time you listen to me for a change. I think it’s high time my children stop acting like brats.”

Adam stifled laughter by hiding his face in Aziraphale’s coat. And the Almighty began Her speech, arms spread out before Her like inviting them all into a hug, though the eyes grew stormy:

“The Great Plan was stopped because I willed it. Don’t you think if I wanted it to pick back up I could make it so? No, they stopped it because it was part of the Ineffable Plan,” She stopped when Gabriel’s back straightened painfully and Her smile quirked, “Yes, they were telling the truth, dear, those two are quite different.”

She turned to face Crowley and he found his glasses disappearing with a light flutter of Her hand, “Crowley, dear, you were never meant to Fall. You were _made_ to question—I made you that way. But your questions should’ve fortified Heaven, unlike Luci and his main crew,” then She turned a frown at Gabriel, “I shouldn’t have left them in charge—they got paranoid—and overzealous and down you tumbled.”

Crowley’s exposed eyes showed too much, they were wide and red-rimmed as they gazed upon the Almighty. He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand and found a thumb sweeping along the back of his hand.

“But I suppose it’s a good thing that you did fall, if you hadn’t—you might not have met Aziraphale,” She said and turned Her attention to the angel who was providing comfort to the demon. When he found the Almighty’s eyes on him, he tensed. “You—my dear, I did good with you. Perhaps a bit _too_ indulgent, but where it counts you’re a great angel. You were always meant to be with Humans, didn’t expect you to hand them your sword, but no matter. Yes, you two were exactly what Earth needed so I’ll grant you what you deserve—your own side.”

She reached into Her jacket and pulled out a sword, very similar to the one a certain Horseperson used, and She willed it over to Aziraphale who took it in his free hand and glanced up with a confused expression.

“A sword. Not one to protect Eden, but to protect Earth,” She said, “Mind you, you shouldn’t need to use it, but it’s a reminder to Heaven of what you are—protector, Principality, and Soldier of _Earth_ , no longer of Heaven.”

Gabriel sputtered from behind her, “Excuse me? Your Holiness, excuse me, but Aziraphale cannot belong to _Earth_. That’s preposterous. There is Above and there is Below and Aziraphale, as great as you say he is, should be with us, Above. It wouldn’t be right for him to continue—dawdling on Earth. It’s what’s making him so _soft_ in the first place.”

The Almighty’s shoulders tensed and, from above, there was a threatening roll of thunder. She turned in a slow shuffle, an orbit if you will, until She was facing the petulant face of the Archangel.

“Gabriel,” She said, Her voice was cold fire and everyone in the room felt it’s hot-cold rush on their skin, “I really don’t like doing this. But if you are acting like a brat, so you leave me no other choice.”

Again, She waved Her hand in a dismissive fashion and the next time Gabriel opened his mouth, he found that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise, no sound came out. He glared around the Almighty at Aziraphale who shot him an indulgent smile and waved with the hand holding the sword.

The Almighty looked at Sandalphon who snapped to attention. “If he fails to carry this message, it’ll be up to you to deliver it: Aziraphale is no longer of Heaven. He is still an Angel, but he carries my duties out on Earth. He should not be bothered and he will not bother you,” then She turned to the demons who twitched under Her attention. “Same goes for you.”

Beelzebub gave a shallow bow and She turned a wide smile towards Crowley. He was frozen in place, white-knuckled grip around Aziraphale’s hand (it was a good thing that circulation of blood was not needed in their bodies otherwise the angel would’ve found himself losing that hand).

The Almighty took a step towards them and reached a hand out towards the demon, “Take my hand.”

Shaking, he raised the free hand up and let her cool fingers wrap around his overheated ones. Aziraphale made to move away, but Crowley pulled him closer, bringing Adam closer as well.

“I don’t know what to give you, my dear,” She said, giving him a sweet smile. “An apology wouldn’t be enough. I can Forgive you, but it wasn’t me who damned you in the first place. But I could give you one thing. I could Raise you.”

Behind Her, the eternal court all gasped and a little bit of shock ran through the room. She could feel Crowley shaking, an unrelenting shudder that shook him from head to foot. Even Adam had wrapped his arms around Crowley so that he could stop feeling shivery.

“You mean—”

“An Angel again, can you remember what denomination you were—ah, doesn’t matter,” She said with a dismissive shrug. “I’ll make you a Principality too and then you’ll be equals. And, of course, the same rules will apply for you, no meddling from either Heaven or Hell while the two of you protect Earth together.”

Crowley’s eyes were yellow from end to end, and they dilated at Her words. He pulled out of Her grasp and turned to Aziraphale, dislodging Adam from place and the boy made his way around to his Grandmother. He almost glowed with promise and he reached across, surprising Aziraphale to a point that he almost missed the opportunity to miracle away the sword before Crowley impaled himself.

He took both of Aziraphale’s hands in his, a wide smile spread on his face, “What do you say, angel? Both of us—together, _equals_ in the eyes of Heaven and Hell. No more worries, no more back alley dealings, no more _fraternizing_. We’d get to do everything we always wanted and were too afraid to do,” Crowley said, eyes tearing up. “Say the word and I’ll do it, I’ll say yes. Say it’s what you want.”

From the court, Sandalphon took a step back, reaching up for his chest and sharing a concerned look with Gabriel. The demons did the same, though their glances looked a little sad as well.

Aziraphale’s own eyes softened and he shook off Crowley’s grasp on his hands to reach up and cup the demon’s face with them both. He took a step forward, closing the breath of space, left between them and pressing their foreheads together.

“My love,” he said, and Crowley shivered against him. “Heaven does not deserve to claim an Angel as good and kind and dastardly beautiful as you. They’d try to destroy the Earth just to gain your attention, they’d go to war to gain your _affection_."

“I wouldn’t belong to Heaven, I’d belong to Earth,” Crowley said, eyes closing, though he might’ve just said ‘I’d belong to _you_ ’. “Just think of what we could be—I wouldn’t have these eyes for one, I’d be washed away of all Sin.”

“Humanity needs us as we’ve always been,” insisted Aziraphale. “Besides, would you even want to be around a _barely holy_ being when you’re holier than me? And your eyes are beautiful, Crowley, no matter what you associate it with, I associated with my best friend—from the beginning.”

When Crowley opened his mouth again to argue, a simple ‘angel’ slipping out before Aziraphale shifted enough so that their noses brushed. It stopped Crowley dead in his tracks, red tracking up his face.

“Besides,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle, “how can I be your angel if we’re _both_ one? You’re perfect, my love, exactly as you’ve always been—it’s never _mattered_ that you were a demon, just that you could be destroyed because of me.”

Crowley’s frenzy dropped as the thumbs along his cheekbones began to stroke and he reached up to place his hands atop Aziraphale’s and mimicked his actions atop the backs. He chuckled and nodded, their noses brushing once again.

“Alright, my angel, you win,” Crowley said. “Sata—Go—oh, bugger it, I love you.”

Aziraphale gave a satisfied little hum, “Well, it’s mutual, obviously.”

Crowley pulled away, Aziraphale’s hands in his as he turned to the Almighty. She gave him an all-too knowing smile as he shrugged, “Sorry. I think we’ll keep our arrangement the way it’s been. Hasn’t been all that bad.”

She gave a little laugh, “Well, I would like to give you something. Heaven and Hell won’t bother you, that I can assure you,” and She shot the beings behind Her a glare before turning back. “But you deserve something, my dear Crowley, and don’t say the cheesy thing you were thinking.”

Adam at Her side gave a loud gasp and tugged on Her sleeve. She bent down so he could whisper in Her ear and whatever he said had Her lighting up.

“Right, well,” She said and turned around, clapping Her hands together. “Guys, you’ve got to get on your way…and remember what I’ve said.” The door to the bookshop opened behind them.

Beelzebub looked like ze wanted to say something more, but a light nudge from Asmodeus had both of them bowing and exiting the shop with nothing more than a glare at Crowley. Gabriel looked indignant as Sandalphon pulled his sleeve. He met the eyes of the Almighty and frowned, but when She raised an eyebrow, he just shook his head and let his companion pull him away.

Then She turned to Crowley again. “I owe you a favor,” She said, a twinkle sparking in Her eye. “You’ll know what it is—if not, Adam can help you with it. Unless—you know what it is now.”

He gave Her a small smile, “I think I do—but I think I should probably do it the proper way, don’t you think? Deserves to be done the old-fashioned way: roses, chocolates, candlelit dinner or a picnic, big public display, ceremony with all our friends—not that we have a lot of those, but I have a feeling book-girl would be disappointed if she missed it.”

The Almighty laughed and the lights around the shop sparked with it, “That he does—and that she would. Alright, next time you pray, I’ll answer it. Be safe, my protectors of Earth. Grandson, you’ve made me proud. Till next time.”

“Your Holiness,” Aziraphale said, addressing Her for the first time. “I—I know I shouldn’t ask but, well, curiosity is a human thing and it should be encouraged. Why now? Why did you come to our aid now?”

“Because, it’s time for the Ineffable Plan, _this_ plan,” She said and gestured between them, “to come to fruition—it’s about five thousand years overdue.”

And with no more fuss, She disappeared much like She appeared—with a roll of thunder and a flash of light.

The bookshop fell silent. The buzzing of London bustling outside the only sound of life as they attempted to gather their wits. Adam spun around and pulled on Crowley’s sleeve until he bent, ear to mouth, and he whispered something. Crowley’s laughter pierced the silence and he ruffled Adam’s curls on the way up.

“Of course, kid, you’re the only one I could want,” he said. “Now, I think you’ve hoodwinked your parents long enough. Go on. I’ll be in touch.”

Adam smiled, a genuine, ear-to-ear smile that lit up his face, and he ran off, “Bye Crowley, Aziraphale, thanks for letting me hang around,” as he rounded out the door he threw a last minute, “Love you,” and they puffed with pleasure.

Like that, the two were left alone in the bookshop just as they’d been earlier.

Crowley rubbed his thumbs along Aziraphale’s palm as he turned back to face him. They shared small and soft smiles as their foreheads came to rest against each other’s again.

“Protectors of Earth,” Aziraphale said with a laugh. “Well, my dear, what would you like to do now that the riff-raff is gone for good?”

“I’d like to get drunk and sleep,” answered Crowley, noses brushing. “But, I have things to do so that might be for another day. Do you mind a raincheck for the imbibing of copious amounts of alcohol to forget that we were almost smote today?”

There’s a pout on the angel’s face that Crowley almost leaned into, but he laughed and pulled away instead. He brought the hands in his up to his lips and he placed a light kiss onto the knuckles. The pout on Aziraphale’s face slipped off as his jaw dropped a bit and he blushed bright.

“Don’t make plans for tomorrow,” Crowley said, finally let go to reach into his jacket and pull out a new pair of glasses. “I’m taking you out for a celebratory dinner—or would you prefer a picnic at lunchtime. Ah, we can do both—we have all the time in the world.”

Aziraphale just watched him, “My dear…are you alright?”

Crowley patted the pocket he’d pulled his glasses from and his smile grew again, “Just tickety-boo, angel. Picnic, dinner. Don’t even bother opening the shop tomorrow, I’ll be around for you during lunchtime.”

With a little wave over his shoulder, he was gone.

The pout on Aziraphale’s face returned as he waved a hand to lock the door and readjust the sign to say that the store would be closed for tomorrow as well and to pardon for any inconvenience. He settled in his chair, the book he’d been reading before everything sat next to his now cold mug of cocoa, but he didn’t feel like reading. Instead, he willed the cocoa back to a warm state and sat there, fingers running along his knuckles, wondering what tomorrow’s outings would bring.


	2. Roses, Orange Blossoms, and Gloxinias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know whether I wanted to write the continuation or not...but it got such a good reception that I decided to continue. And I wasn't going to write the last bit...but I got ambitious. 
> 
> I hope it's just as good.

There was nothing too out of the ordinary when Crowley came to pick him up the following afternoon. _Too_ , being the main modifier in this case because there _were_ a few things Aziraphale noticed.

For one, the finer clothes that Crowley was wearing that day.

Though the demon was one for flash, these clothes looked a little—specific. Less like the popular items he popped on and changed as he window-shopped and more like he’d planned out this outfit at least three times before deciding it would have to do. (It was _five_ times, but Aziraphale didn’t need to know that).

Then there was the Bentley itself who, while still played the usual serenade of Freddie’s voice, made sure that the songs the radio spun were of a certain variety: from “Love of My Life’, to ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’, well, there was a theme there.

And last, it was the open affection with which Crowley was treating him with. His arm around the back of the passenger headrest in the car, pulling him through the gardens by the hand and interlacing their fingers together, the brushing of their fingers as he served their lunch. More than once during their picnic, he’d let his head rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder and sigh, then he’d be back up and talking about this, that, or the other that came to his mind.

It was driving Aziraphale a little mad.

But it was a lovely day, almost handcrafted by God Herself and he was damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy the spread of all his favorite foods on that picnic blanket alongside his favorite being.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, peeking at his watch. “I think it’s time we wrap this up. I have plans and we’ll be late if we don’t start now.”

“Oh? I’d thought you’d want to be fashionably late as is your…modus operandi.”

Crowley gave him a smile as he unbent himself and helped Aziraphale to his feet. He kept holding one of the hands while, with the other, he packed the remaining food and blanket into the basket in a one-wave miracle, then, as an afterthought miracled it away altogether.

“Come on, our next appointment awaits,” Crowley said and tugged on his hand. “I’m going to share with you my favorite places. The gardens for, well, obvious reasons and now the planetarium.”

“Why?”

“I figured taking you to the stars themselves was a little heavy for a daytrip.”

Aziraphale wanted to keep questioning, but the out-of-place unbridled joy in Crowley’s expression was a delicious sight, and he had always enjoyed the delicacies life gave him. So his lips quirked into a smile and interlaced their fingers.

“Lead on, my dear.”

At the planetarium, Crowley greeted employees by name and introduced Aziraphale as ‘his angel’ before telling them that he had promised to show him the stars. A dusting of pink settled on Aziraphale’s cheeks as the employees smiled and ushered them into the different exhibits.

Crowley showed every star and planet with gusto, pointing to certain ones and telling little stories about them: _‘I remember making that one’_ , ‘ _That was my favorite star of the constellation’_ , ‘I had to fight to get _them_ up there’.

Aziraphale just soaked it all in, every zap of joy and love that ran through Crowley and into the angel through their still interlaced fingers.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so excited, Crowley,” Aziraphale said as they settled to watch the presentation at the end of their tour.

The demon looked over and his brow softened, “I have a reason to be excited. I now know we can live without interruptions—we can _live_ instead of exist,” he shifted his grasp on Aziraphale’s hand to bring it up to his face where he placed a firm kiss on the palm. “And I want to start by sharing my favorite things with you the way that you’ve shared yours with me.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, a breathless little expression as he wriggled in his seat.

“Hush, now, angel,” he said. “Watch the stars.”

The theatre darkened and the night burst around them. Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand and started naming every star in the sky, no star’s intensity matching the burn that settled in Aziraphale’s heart.

“I meant to give these to you earlier but…they weren’t really _lunch_ foods,” Crowley said as they pulled away from the museum they’d stopped by before dinner. “And it didn’t take _much_ of a miracle to keep them solid.”

He reached back and into the backseat, ignoring Aziraphale’s panicked exclamation, and pulled a box into the front. Then he placed the red, ribbon wrapped box in Aziraphale’s lap and continued:

“I had meant to give those to you a long time ago—well, not _those_ exactly, but—but you had guests so that plan was derailed,” Crowley gave and indignant huff of air, “Lousy purple-eyed prick.”

Aziraphale frowned down at the box, “Chocolates?”

“ _Fancy_ chocolates…I picked all your favorites from a chocolatier,” explained Crowley. “Swiss, Italian, Belgian, those little ones that you like from Argentina, a mix, y’know?”

For once that entire day, Crowley seemed nervous. He shuffled in his seat and the grip on the wheel was a little stronger than it should be if the Bentley’s response was an accurate measurement.

“This is very thoughtful, my dear,” Aziraphale said, finger fiddling with the ribbon. “But you shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble. And—I’ve been waiting quite a while for you to come back with this.”

“You remember?” Crowley asked, eyebrows shooting up beyond the rims.

Aziraphale chuckled, “Of course I do. I wanted nothing more to spend time with you and celebrate the opening of my shop, but they were going to send me back and—anyway, I wanted you to get that chance again. Seems like you’re missing something here, my love.”

He laughed in response, one hand climbing absentmindedly to his chest and patting it as he answered, “Just you wait.”

They arrived at the Ritz by the tail end of the rendition of Old-Fashioned Lover Boy and Crowley fussed at Aziraphale when he reached for the door.

“Stay there.”

He then got out, made his way around the car, and opened the door for him to step out. Aziraphale fiddled with his ring as Crowley leaned closer, plucked the chocolate box out of his hand and placed it on the seat.

“My angel,” he said, with a debonair smile as he straightening back up. He tucked Aziraphale’s hand at the bend of his elbow, “Let’s go.”

They were seated at their usual table after Crowley, with a wide smile and a ‘look at this’ eyebrow wiggle, checked in for their reservations.

(“Did you _actually_ make a reservation?”

“Of course, angel. Only the best for you.”

He was careful not to reveal that he had called in for the reservation after the pair that had the table before him just _happened_ to get food poisoning, forcing them to cancel.)

At the table, the sight of a wide-bowled bouquet of red roses greeted them, white flowers skirting the taller stocks, a single candle was perched atop them on a stand. Crowley pulled the chair out for Aziraphale to sit, in when he sat, and then took his usual position at Aziraphale’s left, smiling between the angel and the bouquet.

“What do you think?”

The angel was gaping at the extravagant amount of flowers, “They’re _lovely._ But wha—why?”

Crowley shrugged, “You said it, I owed you. Plus, you deserve them.”

“You’ve spoiled me rotten, today, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, hand reaching out to distract himself with anything—the silverware, the napkin, coat, or ring. “I’m feeling a little guilty that I haven’t done anything for you.”

“Oh,” said Crowley, reaching over and easing the nervous fingers away from the tablecloth where they’d settled. “My angel, don’t worry about it, just—let me indulge you today.”

“You’ve indulged me for too long, love.”

“Than—just for one more day.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat and turned his attention to the bouquet, “What are the white flowers—I know those are orange blossoms, but what are the other?”

“Gloxinia,” Crowley said. “They—together they’re expressing everything I’ve ever wanted to show you. Everything I want to say.”

The burning ember that settled in Aziraphale’s heart burned brighter as Crowley began to run a finger along his palm. It coiled up to his neck and down to his stomach and enveloped him in a warm hug.

“I love you,” Crowley said, breath shaky as a laugh carried along with it. “It’s taken a long time for me to say it, but I do. I mean, I said it yesterday, but the Almighty Herself didn't mind it so I couldn't help but tell you. I've always loved you—gloxinia: love at first sight or the closest thing we have to it. But there’s more—I’ve always been afraid, as have you, that Heaven and Hell would — would find out about our arrangement, about our friendship— about my love for you.”

“Crowley,” started Aziraphale, but stopped at the gentle pressure at his wrist and the clearing of a throat across the table.

The waiter interrupted, smiling when he saw the open display of affection (about time, he thought) and took their orders, quick, hurrying away to leave them in their peace again.

“The Almighty, She—She’s giving me what I’ve always needed, a promise. Promise that nothing would happen to you, or me, if I were to pursue you— _if_ you accept my affections,” he said, revealing his over-expressive eyes by looking at Aziraphale from the tops of his glasses.

Aziraphale sighed, his gaze softening, “My _love_ , of course I accept and return them. I thought I made that very clear yesterday. Orange blossoms, eternal love, _my_ love for you. Is that what all this is? A date? We’ve very well been on 523 of them in the course of millennia.”

Crowley blinked and straightened up in his chair, “You’ve kept count.” A blush rose on Aziraphale’s cheeks, but Crowley shook his head, “I think _this_ makes it 524, angel. Five twenty-five including the picnic. No, this isn’t what this is all about—not the date. But it’s not time yet, let’s finish our date and we’ll see where it goes.”

Desserts were on their way when Crowley started slithering around. He drew circles on the tablecloth as Aziraphale spoke to him about the latest topic of conversation—constellation and the accurate mythology behind it—until the angel noticed his companion’s unrest.

“Crowley, dear, what’s wrong?”

“It’s time,” he said and turned to face Aziraphale. “Angel, you know that I love you. More than words can describe, more than your favorite poets could express, more than these flowers could convey, you know that.”

“Well, yes, of course I know.”

“And you know that I want to spend the rest of our days protecting the Earth with you.”

“As do I,” Aziraphale said, confusion settling into the creases of his frown.

“The Almighty,” Crowley continued. “She gave me more than a promise of our safety. She gave me Her blessing—” he stopped as the word burned his mouth a little, “blessing to do what I’ve been wanting to do since you opened that bookshop—since the first time I arrived with chocolates and flowers.”

“Crowley?”

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hands, placed those careful kisses of his on the knuckles before reaching towards the pocket inside his jacket, and pulled something out.

“I wanted to make a big deal—fireworks, a string quartet, to call Heaven and Hell to bear witness to it,” he stopped and gave a little laugh. “But I think we’ve had enough big events in our long lives that this—this can be quiet.”

And from his closed fist, he revealed a ring—gold feather motif wrapped around the band—that he presented to Aziraphale. The blue eyes scanned the ring, then its presenter who was smiling, crooked and soft.

“We’ve been it all but in name,” Crowley said. “Aziraphale, Principality, Angel and Protector of Earth, book collector and bookshop keeper—love of my eternal life, would you do the honor of becoming my husband under the eyes of the Almighty?”

Aziraphale gave a shuddering breath reached across the gap, hands settling along Crowley’s jawline and pulling him in. Foreheads touched first, nose brushed, as Aziraphale breathed out his ‘yes’ along Crowley’s mouth before slotting them together, pressing that affirmation against his lips.

Six thousand years of love cannot be expressed in a single kiss, but Aziraphale tried to flood as much as he could with that kiss and the other two or three tender brushes that followed. When they pulled away, just far enough to look at each other without going cross-eyed, Crowley slipped the ring on his finger and admired the glint.

A clearing throat behind them brought them back to the Ritz and away from their own world. The waiter served their last two dishes of the night and before he left, beamed and congratulated the two of them.

“Just so you know,” Crowley said, smiling around the glass of champagne. “Adam called dibs on being my Best Man.”

“And just so _you_ know, love,” Aziraphale said around a bite of Crème Brule, “logistically, we’ve been married since the Blitz.”

The ceremony itself was also quite small. Anathema offered the garden at Jasmine Cottage and Adam tried to one-up her, offering them the field beyond his own garden to which Newt, with an ounce of adult-like wisdom asked:

“Doesn’t that, technically, belong to your neighbor?”

To which the boy had shrugged and kept his offer on the table.

Aziraphale accepted Anathema’s offer and Crowley ascended only with the assurance that he’d be able to scare her garden into behaving beforehand. He wanted everything to be perfect and, well, he wasn’t going to ruin it because of some wilted grass.

So Jasmine Cottage found itself decked in white and red with only six chairs set out and an altar makeshift at Anathema’s threshold. Red roses, orange blossoms, and white gloxinias wove around the archway and each guest wore one of the flowers. Adam was standing with Crowley, chest puffing with pride though he ruined the image making faces at the rest of the Them. Dog, as always, sat at his heels with his own little tuxedo.

The formerly-known-as Madame Tracy presented herself across from Crowley and Adam. When he had questioned the angel on his choice, Aziraphale shrugged, “We don’t have many friends—and we _did_ share a body—I know her better than any other human on Earth.”

(Anathema was a little put out, but she was so excited helping the Them and Crowley plan the wedding that she forgot all about it.)

Shadwell was there, to everyone's chagrin, but no one paid him any mind. He had been told, ‘not threatened Shadwell, dear’, by Tracy that he’d better behave or he’d be put out faster than he could pull out that finger of his.

“Mr. Crowley,” Tracy said, glancing at the empty space under the threshold. “I know you can’t have a traditional wedding, but isn’t there something—or _someone_ missing?”

He smirked, unshielded snake-like eyes shining with Knowledge, “Not at all. She’ll be coming along. But it’s time.”

They didn’t want the wedding march. It seemed contrite and boring, something neither of them were, so Anathema had offered a piece that she’d composed (“What, I come from a wealthy family, you don’t think I had private music classes?”) and had recorded the piece with a few other orchestrates that she’d contacted from London.

The violins swelling announced that the angel, foregoing his usual costume for something more top hat and tails, his cream suit matching Crowley’s white one. Walking him down the aisle was the smallish woman, Her own suit changed to match accordingly—white and cream—but Her eyes were just as stormy as they’d been when She’d first arrived.

She stopped, reached up to cup Aziraphale’s face, then turned to do the same to Crowley, who flushed under Her attention, and then took the steps up to stand before them. Adam waved from around Crowley and She acknowledged him with a smile.

“Are we ready? If we’re doing this, we’re doing this in all my glory,” She said, sparkling with humor as She looked around at the misfit group of humans, and otherworldly beings around Her. She gestured to them both, “Go on, let them out, no one will see them other than those here.”

The two glanced between them and willed their wings back into a visible realm. It was the first time that they looked at their wings, at _each other_ wings, since the Apoca-wasn’t and it was amazing to see them. Gradients of grey from shoulder to tip, the highlights of Crowley’s more black with blue sheen and Aziraphale’s more white with silver glow.

“Very well,” said the Almighty, after the expressions of awe from the crowd. “We are gathered here for the union of Aziraphale and Crowley—”

It was short and concise. The Almighty didn’t exalt Herself or patter out purple prose. She let them speak for themselves. Their vows brought the adults to tears, Pepper to disgust-hidden joy, the boys to contemplation, and Adam to smile as he felt himself surrounded by their love and joy. Aziraphale plucked the ring off his pinkie and presented it to Crowley, slipping it onto his fingers with an ‘You’re all the Heaven I’ll ever need’ that _absolutely_ did not bring tears to Crowley’s eyes.

The Almighty beamed, and the glow in their hearts brightened, “This plan, not mine, but Ineffable in its way, has finally come to a close. My Protectors of Earth, you may now kiss your forever-love.”

The two of them met in a sweet kiss, a slow brush of their lips as Crowley took Aziraphale’s face in his hands and hummed when arms wrapped around his neck. There were cheers from the crowd, a few quiet ‘ew’s’, and the Almighty, attention taken away from her, disappeared in a quiet flash of light. Petals of roses, blossoms, gloxinia’s rained over the garden as the husbands separated and turned to their guests.

“Alright, I promised him cake if he married me,” Crowley said with a smirk. “We should get on with it before he changes his mind.”

Everyone laughed, more so when Aziraphale pushed his husband in faux insult.

The kids pushed into the cottage, while the adults took longer. Newt and Anathema whispering about where all the food and had they set it out properly, Tracy smacked Shadwell as he babbled about witchcraft and how the ‘woman couldn’t have been anything other than a witch with that exit’.

Aziraphale and Crowley hung back, fingers intertwined as they looked around, then turned back to each other. Small, pleased smiles curled their mouths their wings vibrating with the overwhelming feeling of Love around them.

Aziraphale bit his lip, shifting from foot-to-foot, “It’d be rude to leave, right?”

“Oy, now who’s going too fast?” said Crowley, a tease to the smile. He leaned in and gave his husband another kiss that Aziraphale followed with a small step forward when he pulled away. “Come now, my angel, we have all the time in the world.”

Though he pouted, Aziraphale followed Crowley’s lead as they tucked in their wings and joined the festivities inside. As the door closed behind them, they missed two baskets—one popping up from the earth, the other swinging down from the sky—landing at the threshold. One basket was full of sweets, the other of fancy bottles of wine. A closer look at the note inside would find that one read:

Mazel Tov

While the other read:

Good Riddance.

And were signed Heaven and Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Anathema's violin piece is exactly what you think it is.
> 
> I wrote those vows. They exist. I can publish those...if anyone wants.


	3. Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vows of Crowley and Aziraphale from their wedding in the previous chapter.

Crowley's Vows:

Gloxinia, love at first sight.

Had I not Fallen from Grace, you would’ve been my first Fall—and the greatest one. From the beginning, from seeing the Pureness of your smile, the kindness stitched into your existence, I knew I’d risk Hell’s Righteousness, Heaven’s wrath, for your love, for your Light in my life.

I’d have indulged every desire, waited for another millennia or more for your love. Your presence and warmth was enough. It felt almost like being holy again, it was floating after falling so far down. And now, knowing you’re mine for the rest of our lives makes me happier than any temptation, than any commendation or Forgiveness and Raising would’ve ever brought.

I’ll love you always, and if 6000 years hasn’t been enough to prove it, I hope 6000 more will.

Aziraphale's Vows:

Orange blossoms, eternal love, my love for you.

For all the Goodness Heaven claims it stands for, there’s not good greater than yours. You are the savior of children, giver of knowledge, and you encouraged an angel to do more than obey—to do what they love, to not fear, and to be more than a tool for Heavens' deeds. I enjoyed the fire your presence brought.

Many an artist wrote me words of love and offered me promises they could never keep. They promised me forever, but my forever would only ever be you. I’m selfish and indulgent so I’d have kept you close to me, if only to hold on to your love and not share. Now it’s not selfishness, not indulgence, just us as it was at the beginning, so it will be till our end.

As long as I have your love, there will never be anything finer to indulge in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the vows. I don't know if they made you cry...but I did enjoy writing them. Crowley's came easier but I enjoyed getting into Aziraphale's head.

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't believe Crowley was meant to fall...he really did fall into the wrong crowd. Plus, God listens to Crowley, She wouldn't listen if She didn't love him, right? And if he had fallen after Luci and the Boys, maybe that's why Crowley wasn't made a Duke or Prince of Hell.
> 
> P.S. I plan on continuing with what happens on the date-day.


End file.
